Hearts Out On The Open Road
by MaRuX
Summary: What's in a heart? The gap between generations has never seemed so enormous. Oneshot.


**A.N.: I REGRET NOTHING. You hear me? NOTHING!**

**(And because Max and Roxanne are meant for each other.)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: THIS IS PURELY FAN-MADE!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>He didn't know what to do.<p>

All he ever wanted was to keep them happy. _To know him safe_.

Ever since his son was born - _the biggest joy in his life_, was spending time with his little Maxie. Spend some quality time together, just like he did when he was a kid with his own father. That was what he'd always dreamed of ever since he'd went on that amazing summer trip so many years ago. All those wondrous moments, spent together while on that trip, they were so very _precious_ to him. They were the best, the epitome of fun and good-natured laughter, the best of his childhood memories.

Such dear weeks gone by a long time ago, but Goofy couldn't understand how others couldn't see it the same way. (Because others didn't share the same experiences as him, didn't go in a long fishing trip bursting with colors in the always-shining summer sun with Goofy's father. That realization never crossed Goofy's mind, not even once; he did not know what he'd missed.)

His father always knew what Goofy needed, even better than he knew himself. His father always knew best. _Your old pap knows best._ His father would've most likely known what to do in such a situation. But now Goofy was the father. And it was moments like these that he often wondered if his own father ever felt this burdened with gnawing uncertainty when raising his own son. Feeling so helpless in this very moment; with his son looking so heartbreakingly sad and _defeated_, seeming to melt and crumple in the cushioned car seat like a stick of butter, in the bright summer sun and tense atmosphere in the car. Just moments ago he looked like a ruffled kitten, but with the roar of a tiger barely contained within his eyes and chest. And he didn't know what to do.

The most painful part was that he didn't even know why it was like this. Why did they not get along with each other like Goofy did with his dad. What was different from the way it was back then?

Because they were such different people. Father-and-son or not, you do not get a clone through offspring. Goofy couldn't grasp Max's train of thought, nor his values in life anymore. It was easier when his Maxie was a toddler. Always grasping with his little fingers in a surprisingly firm grip, urging his daddy to "_Let's play ball, dad!"_ and sticky fingers on the walls because PJ bought them both lollipops before dinner with his big-boy allowance. Asking questions with such simple wordings and genuine puzzlement over grown-up stuff that shouldn't be so complicated, really (and, _gosh_, he was right; he was such a smart boy, smarter than his dad, leaving Goofy perplexed and feeling way over his head sometimes)... Showing his daddy the picture he drew in class – always. Always a picture with him and _him_, with Goofy and his son Maxie, Max and his daddy, father and son, two Goofs, family, Max Goof and Goofy Goof, two friends and the two best friends in the _"whoole waaide woorld"_, who didn't really need anybody - anybody but each other.

_What happened to them?_

Then Max started _growing_ _up_.

It didn't change anything at first. That actually brought joy and nothing but merriment and more fun and games because _my son is a big boy now_. Too bad they didn't do the old threshold measuring. When he first realized that he felt a bit foolish, because it was a beautiful home tradition that shouldn't be left behind. But still, little Maxie was right there in his arms, already six-years old but still not much heavier than he could remember and they still had so much _time_ ahead of them, it seemed too far away to fuss over his little Maxie being any different than he was at that very moment when he thought about it.

And now... When did the years go by?

It felt so far away now, those days when he could swing him easily in his arms like the cute little black-furred bundle he was. Max wouldn't even let him do that now, he felt too old for that, even though Goofy thought it shouldn't be that way.

He was still small and short, his _pipsqueak pioneer_; he had to lean his head downwards to kiss his messy hair ( _Mwah! -"Aww, dad!"_). And Maxie was, still, such a good boy. He'd always been. Right now he was just confused, so very young and fiery, all raw emotion and stubborn opinions (He was at _that _age.). He didn't know the magnitude of a loving parent's worry over his child when he's in trouble. And his father only wanted Max to be safe and happy. The knowledge that he was in danger of not having that was unhealthy for poor Goofy's sanity. _I don't want you to end up in the Electric Chair..._

Simply put, he could not understand his son anymore. He was so strange sometimes, with his weird music tastes, concepts of "cool" and "awesome" and "stuff" (The promises given when postponing a day only for themselves to spend bonding, because he had _"stuff to do". _He doesn't remember having any "stuff" to do himself when he was his age.). Kids these days...

While the striking resemblance was growing ("_like a Goof alright, ahyuck!_"), the mind of his son was now a place that he could not reach anymore. Goofy noticed that time and time again; tiny glimpses here and there, but now it was so obvious, it worried him: little Maxie was obviously thinking of things he didn't understand, thinking of things he himself didn't think about; he was doing something that his father could never do with him because he wasn't even telling him anything anymore and it _hurt_.

It worried him, despite all his reassurances that it wasn't that bad.

_He did not notice that look in his son's eye. - Max, wherever he looked, saw the features of someone his distressed heart sang for in anguish and helpless adoration. - The sigh of a lovesick boy between his fuming and sulking, sinking in his seat, folding his arms and fisting his shirt (to stop the craving to claw out; out of the constraints his father unknowingly fastened around him with his coddling and one-sided opinions, keeping him away from RoxanneRoxanneRoxanneRoxanne...)._

But still - Goofy argued with himself for the infiniteth time as he drove across The Open Road - Max was still his son, no matter what; the good times were not over. They could still have fun together, try to understand and help each other. _He could still be a part of his son's life. _

He just has to try harder.

_Maxie is a good boy._

He just needed his son to let him in.

* * *

><p><strong>STILL REGRET NOTHING.<strong>

**Except the fact that we don't have enough daytime to stay awake and conceive enough satisfactory fan-made material.** **(I wanna go to sleep and yet I don't. Waaah! D:)**


End file.
